You're Awful, I Love You
by Malcan
Summary: "Do not call me perfect, a lie is never a compliment. Call me an erratic, damaged and insecure mess. Then tell me that you love me for it." -Beau Taplin (A collection of Cartman/Tweek drabbles. Ratings will range from K to M.)
1. Buttons

"Tweek, is it that hard to button your shirt right?"

Tweek jumps at the sound of his name, turning his head to see who spoke. Cartman glares back at him, eyes deeply focused on the small black buttons keeping Tweek's shirt together.

"What do you mean?" He's sure he got it right this time, but when he looks down, he sees a mess of mismatched buttons and holes. "Oh..."

"Seriously, what the hell? It's a few buttons."

"Well, it's kind of hard to keep things in one place." He holds out his hands, letting Cartman see how much they shake, even somewhere as calm and familiar as the bus stop.

Tweek sees no sympathy in his eyes. That's fine with him. He doesn't expect sympathy from Eric Cartman, and it's almost a refreshing change. Sweetness and pity get old fast, especially when he's not panicking and just wants a normal day.

He glimpses Cartman moving towards him, and he does his best not to scream or run. Or both. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't reply. Before Tweek can make sense of what's happening, Cartman's in front of him, hands reaching out for his shirt. Large fingers brush over his thinly clothed chest, forcing a soft sound of surprise from somewhere in his throat. Cartman doesn't even look up, pulling each button from its hole with surprising gentleness.

"I'm fixing your goddamn shirt. It's pissing me off." Tweek has to close his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to get his thoughts in order. Since when has Cartman been noticing things about him? Was he supposed to be noticing too? Had they actually been friends this whole time, rather than casual acquaintances who happened to share a bus stop?

Tweek considers that maybe he shouldn't have closed his eyes, when he opens them to find that his shirt's completely open and he's once again neglected to wear anything underneath. It's a cold enough day for goosebumps and hair standing on end, but his face feels warmer than it's ever been.

Cartman quickly sets to work aligning the buttons with their intended buttonholes, seeming not to care when his hands press too far and leave trails of odd, lingering warmth on Tweek's skin.

"You're touching me." He cringes inside because it sounds stupid, but how could he just stand there and say nothing? Tweek even feels himself involuntarily shrinking away from Cartman, his body repelled by the softest of touches.

"Keep still." Without waiting for compliance, Cartman grabs Tweek's arms and pulls him closer, using all his strength to combat the anticipated resistance. But Tweek puts up no resistance, and is sent crashing directly into Cartman, arms instinctively thrown around him to keep from falling.

Once they've stopped moving, the chaos of the situation quickly dissipates, awkwardness rushing in to replace it. Painfully aware that he's essentially hugging Cartman (with his shirt still half-open), Tweek pulls himself away slowly, careful not to overbalance. That strange feeling of phantom warmth now covers his entire body, and he wants... It has to be a cold day, if he's looking at the big red coat he sees every day and almost wishing it was close and warming him up again.

Cartman continues fixing his buttons, but his movements are faster and lighter, leaving fewer and softer touches. Tweek hates being touched. Surely that's why he purses his lips with mild irritation, watching his shirt close up as each button is returned to its rightful place. When the job's done, Cartman smooths down the green fabric before stepping back, and Tweek just has to hope his gasp of shock goes unnoticed.

"There," Cartman mutters. He looks satisfied, but he doesn't look at Tweek again until the bus arrives.

* * *

><p>If Tweek's shirt is a mess that day, it's a complete mess the next day.<p>

The hopelessly mismatched line of buttons can't be missed by anyone, let alone Cartman. It's seconds before he rushes to fix them.

Tweek doesn't move. Even his hands have been perfectly still since yesterday- in fact, he could have easily done those buttons himself.


	2. One Afternoon

Tweek pulled on the edge of the blanket, attempting to cover himself. "Come on, give me some!"

Cartman reached over and easily pulled it back without so much as moving his eyes from the television. "No. Get your own, we've got like a thousand."

"Yeah, but that one's the warmest." Cartman had a way of speaking and smiling that could bring almost anyone to his side (however reprehensible that side happened to be), but Tweek was determined not to be charmed this time. "I just want a bit. Come on."

"Get two or three blankets, that'll be even warmer." There it was, the "You're going to do what I say because deep down you know I'm right" smile. Tweek countered with an innocent smile of his own, keeping eye contact as he quickly crawled into his boyfriend's lap.

"Ay, what are you doing?" Before Cartman could react, Tweek had pulled the blanket over both of them, completely settled in.

"There, now I'm warm and you didn't have to move. Happy?" He snuggled closer, resting his head against Cartman's chest. "You're so soft," Tweek whispered, lips brushing against his shirt collar.

Cartman shook his head, trying to push Tweek back to the other side of the sofa. "Come on, Tweek. Out of the way."

Tweek clung to his boyfriend, even managing to keep the blanket in place. "Out of whose way?" The question was punctuated by heavy breathing from both of them, tired out by the brief struggle.

"The Cheesy Poofs, duh! How am I meant to eat Cheesy Poofs and watch TV if I haven't got anywhere to put the goddamn Cheesy Poofs, Tweek?"

Tweek rolled his eyes, still smiling. "I'll hold the goddamn Cheesy Poofs if they're so important to you."

"Fine." Cartman leaned over the side of the sofa, forcing a cry of surprise from Tweek as he tumbled to the floor. He lay there for a moment, limbs awkwardly sprawled across the carpet.

"God fucking damn it, Cartman," he muttered. As if summoned, Cartman reached out and pulled him back up, looking vaguely concerned.

"Anything broken?"

Nothing felt broken, but Tweek gave his arms and legs an experimental shake. Just in case. Once satisfied nothing had been badly damaged, he settled back into Cartman's lap. "No."

"You weigh, like, nothing."

"I know." Tweek's diet of coffee and little else had produced a small, skinny frame that lacked the ability to gain any substantial amount of weight. They joked about his constant shaking being a great way to burn calories, but if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't have minded looking a bit more... _normal_, he guessed the word would be. "You don't mind?" He knew the answer, but he had to ask one more time. Just to be sure.

"You're fucking sitting on me, Tweek. I think it's great you weigh like a hundred and twenty pounds. Now stop bitching and give me the Cheesy Poofs already." Maybe Cartman wasn't always the sweetest, but Tweek felt reassured. He picked up the massive bowl, holding it up for his boyfriend.

After adjusting their positions so they could both see the television, they watched it in silence, Cartman steadily consuming the cheese snacks. As time passed, Tweek noticed the food capturing more and more of his attention, until it seemed far more important than whatever show was on. Shifting the bowl to one arm, he delicately lifted one Cheesy Poof from the mass.

"No. That's mine." Cartman appeared to be completely focused on the TV, but he had an almost supernatural ability to tell if someone was interfering with his food.

"Oh, come on. Just one?"

"No way! Get your own box."

Tweek dropped the snack back into the bowl, rolling his eyes when Cartman wasn't looking. "You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm seriously!" Tweek buried his face in Cartman's shirt, hoping he wouldn't notice the suppressed laughter. God, he was adorable sometimes.

"God damn it. You want one so badly? Just fucking take one. Here." Tweek looked up, only to see a rapidly approaching Cheesy Poof. Before he could duck, it hit him directly in the face.

It took a moment for Tweek to collect himself. The cheese-flavoured powder had gotten all over his face and hair- it would take _forever_ to wash out! It was even in his nose, making him want to sneeze. Blinking the cheese dust off his eyelashes, he knew there was only one thing to do.

He picked it up and threw it back.

Cartman retaliated by tossing back a large handful, and that was all it took. It was an all-out Cheesy Poofs war.

Tweek knew mess was getting absolutely everywhere, and he would later spend several frantic hours desperately trying to restore the room to its previous state, but honestly, he was just having too much fun to care. It was almost like they didn't end up doing this at least once a week.

Between cries of "I am the master!" and "Bow down to my authoritah!", neither of them could keep from laughing, even as they slowly ran out of energy. Panting lightly and coated in cheese powder, they collapsed on the floor, lacking the willpower to even take a few steps to the sofa.

Tweek just lay there, red-cheeked and short of breath from exertion. Feeling tired and lazy, he reached out across the floor, searching for Cartman's hand.

He found it, but it was already holding something. Managing to turn himself around, he saw Cartman grab another Cheesy Poof from where it lay next to him.

"Don't eat those!" Tweek felt the shaking start again. "They've been on the floor, do you know how many germs got on it? How many bugs? Oh god, that's disgusting, you could get sick! And then I'd get sick! Who would look after us if we were both sick?" The panic had a way of overpowering Tweek's filter, every thought pouring out of him in a semicoherent rush.

"Tweek. Chill." Cartman resumed eating, waiting for Tweek to regain control of himself.

He didn't. If anything, he got worse. "Stop eating them! Go wash your mouth! Please, Cartman!"

"Will you stop spazzing if I do it?"

"Yes!" he cried, though he knew he couldn't promise something like that. Cartman sighed and stood up, heading to the bathroom. He returned a minute later, lips still wet with tap water.

"Better?" Tweek breathed deeply, letting himself calm down naturally. Trying to force it had never worked. When he felt composed enough, he looked up, an uncertain smile on his face.

"Yeah. Better."

Nodding with satisfaction, Cartman wiped the drops of water from his mouth. "Come here." Tweek started to stand up, but before he could, Cartman's hands pulled him close and lifted him up until they were eye level.

He was almost six feet above the ground, and they were both still covered in cheesy dust, but Tweek felt safe and secure. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

The kiss was returned, and Cartman held Tweek even closer. "God, Tweek, you're so gay."

"Well, so are you!"

Cartman kissed Tweek again, savouring the combination of his two favourite tastes. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."


End file.
